Thursday, July 30, 2015

Nelida is a romance novel, published in
1846. So why in the world would I be reading it? Therein lies a story. I’m not
just a writer, but also a classical music geek. My official celebrity crush is
Franz Liszt, a Hungarian pianist/composer. If you are well-read in music
history, you know that Liszt was not just famous for being an unprecedented
piano virtuoso, but also one of the most scandalous figures of his time as far
as his love-life went.

This
novel was written by his mistress of ten years, the mother of his three
children, around the time they finally broke up. It was a bestseller in its
day, but probably not because it was a great book.

So, first, I’ll discuss the novel’s problems.
One of the most glaring problems is the main character. Not a good problem to
have. Nelida, is impossible for me to connect with. I’ll give you a quick
run-down of the plot so you know. Nelida is a ridiculously sweet, ridiculously
innocent girl who befriends, in her childhood, a gypsy boy named Geurmann. (And
everyone reading the book at the time knew who these two characters
represented.) After a little incident with trespassing and cherry-stealing,
Nelida is no longer permitted to associate with the low-bred Geurmann.

Years later, Geurmann re-enters Nelida’s life
as a successful artist, who has been preoccupied with Nelida’s portrait for the
better part of his career. And, of course, they fall in love, but unfortunately
Geurmann, despite his outward appearance of graciousness, is no less an
uncultured peasant than he was back in the cherry orchard.

So, here’s the issue: Nelida has no
obligation, or reason to accept any of the catastrophes that proceed to befall
her. She simply lacks character to stand against any of the injustice and
immorality that she is crushed by. In this sense, she isn’t even as good a
character as the author, who was a strong-minded individual, if somewhat nasty
at times.

Here’s the thing—your character has to have a
motivation that binds them to their circumstances. For Nelida, it really isn’t
love for Geurmann—in fact, until the end, you can’t really be sure that she
cares for him at all. I certainly didn’t find him at all likable. Even if your
love-interest does turn out to be your villain, your main character must have a
reason to like them. Nelida proceeds to be walked over by Geurmann and
everybody else, not because she’s trapped in any way, but because d’Agoult
wants to be sure we all feel good and sorry for her, and know also, that
there’s nothing good in Geurmann (Liszt).

I was disappointed that neither she, nor
Liszt’s personalities were portrayed in the novel. Even with the messy,
unrealistic plot, it would have been that much more believable if Nelida had
the willpower and fierce pride of Marie, and Geurmann had the magnetism and
fiery spirit of Franz.

Actually, I have to admit, in the last few
chapters, she did develop Geurmann more strongly, and he was, at that point,
recognizable as Liszt’s more irritating side. Also, he was away from Nelida in
those last couple of chapters, which was good, because I really just can’t
enjoy reading about her.

I think separating him from Nelida also did
something good for d’Agoult’s portrayal of him. Without her cherubic contrast,
the author was able to depict him sympathetically. It shows when an author has
some feeling for a character as a person. Even an antagonist is a person. If
you have respect for their humanity, they’ll be more real.

Finally, there were two clichés that d’Agoult
impressed me by eluding. First off, Geurmann dies in the end. This is a twist,
because, if d’Agoult were going to hold to stereotypes, Nelida would have been
the one to go. Killing off Geurmann nicely gets rid of the problem, while not
doing what we were all expecting.

The other thing was, Geurmann didn’t actually
die in Nelida’s arms. He went into a coma for a day or two. More realistic, less
melodramatic.

Overall, I wasn’t impressed. But I’ve got to
say, it was an interesting read in the historical context.

Monday, July 20, 2015

I
might find this cliché less cliché, if I had at some point experienced
something like it in real life. Maybe this actually happens among some people,
but as far as I know, it mainly happens in dumb novels.

And even in some not-so-dumb novels. In fact,
the example I’m thinking of is from none other than C.S. Lewis’s none other
than Space Trilogy. In the third book, That
Hideous Strength, there is a scene near the end where the ladies of the
story are preparing for…a banquet, or something of the sort. (Frankly, That Hideous Plot really confused me.)
They all are dressing up for the occasion in some fantastic clothes, which,
though they would probably amaze me if I saw them, always fail to impress me
when mentioned in this kind of context. There’s a lot of general oohing and ahhing—you
know, like ladies do…about clothes.

Okay. So I’ve revealed that I’m not a girly
girl. My point is, whether or not these things actually take place among more
typical humans, how hard-hitting and memorable is this scene? Of course, in
Lewis’s version of this scene, they are at the same time talking about other
things besides just the gorgeous gowns. If they weren’t, the scene would be
absolutely superfluous, and I would be pretty disappointed in Lewis. But,
seeing as the scene shouldn’t be completely deleted, what would you do to fix
the predictability of it all?Predictability
is deadly. Readers are bored to death with it. As soon as I see the author
setting up for this scene I think, “Okay, here we go again.” The combination of
the flurry of sumptuous lace and ruffles, girlish twitter, and perhaps some
demonstration of how the characters’ relationships have developed, you really
don’t have to keep reading to know what is going to happen.

It’s important to have unique scenes in your
story. The more creative your settings and situations are, the more impact they
will have. It’s true. Think about times when you were in an odd place, doing
something unusual. You remember times like these. When you’re an author, you
have the ability to manipulate setting and situation to your advantage. You
aren’t restrained to use anything just because you think it’s typical.

If you’re going to have a scene where your
female characters are talking—hopefully in a way that moves the plot—try
something new, something that will engage your readers.

Try interesting things:

·Hiding
from a freak hailstorm in a telephone booth

·Doing
maintenance on an ancient pipe-organ

·Walking
the rails on a railroad bridge

·Swimming
underneath the docks at a public beach

You
get the idea I think. These kinds of scenes will force you to be creative,
rather than following the molds of a hundred scenes you’ve read just like this.
If more novels had more scenes like this, more novels would be unforgettable.

Thursday, July 16, 2015

Rising
out of Divizah’s murky atmosphere, dim lights mounted on the wings of some
eerie unseen vessel could be seen off the Astronomer’s starboard wing.
The ship swiftly veered as the Astronomer turned back up toward the ring
system for cover. Suddenly, it sprung from the atmospheric haze and charged
after them. It was enormous, but very maneuverable, and it swept forward in the
Astronomer’s pursuit with the form of a headless bird.

Monday, July 13, 2015

From
this point on, it’s only a six-week countdown until the Stardrift Trilogy will
be available from Abbott Press’s website. That would date party time August 25.
At last.

You know, I’ll probably post the whole story
of my adventures in subsidy-publishing once they’re over. For now, I’ll just
give you a teaser, saying, “It’s a once-in-a-lifetime experience.”

In the meanwhile, I’ve got one more thing. In
these weeks counting down to printing and distribution, I’ll be posting
snippets from the Trilogy here on As the Stars Drift interspersed along with my
other posts. Stay tuned.